Confessions of an Onna
by The Slow Hand Muse
Summary: ADULT HUMOR: What was the real reason Bulma and Yamcha broke up? This is a oneshot attempt at humor with many sexual references towards sorted characters. Read, review, enjoy. REPOST with edited content.


Disclaimer: This story is a fan fiction, something from my own brain and not true to the DBZ story lines and by no means do I even own any of the Dragonball characters, if you believe that I do I got a nice piece of Arizona ocean front property I would like to sell you. 

A/N: This is my attempt at humor; as droll as it might be. It's a one shotter. I'll apologize ahead of time if anything I write offends anyone. But it's a some what comical interpretation of the events. It's been rolling around in my head and leaking slightly out of my ears, so I thought I better put it down on paper before it slithered away and accosted some other poor s.o.b. I have editted it a bit and changed some things to make it more clear that Yamacha doesn't have a fetish for farm animals but was a sexual reference to a DBZ character. All references to any .com are completely fictional. And much love to the 500+ hits that actually read the story and the few reviews that were posted.

**Confessions of an Onna **

Looking up from his heaping mound of eggs, bacon and pancakes; Vegeta almost instantly regretted being in the kitchen at that moment in time. That onna, was in a full blown fit, tears streaming from her eyes, her pathetic wails assaulting his sensitive ears. He grumbled darkly and turned his attentions back to the food before him, hoping she'd just go away. Much to his eternal luck she sat down at the same very table and began to cry all the harder. She clutched an old crumpled photo in her hand, twisting it and ripping at it in an attempt to distort the smiling figures on the film.

"Well," she shot across the table at him, anger filling her voice as tears continued to stream down her already stained face. Her otherwise perfect make-up was ruined, the eyeliner sliding down her cheeks like blackened tears. Puffy blood shot eyes peered intently at his, boring a hole through him as she waited for an answer. Her cyan hair was in shambles, knotted, unbrushed and for a moment he swore he saw a toothbrush in the mass of unruly locks.

"What the hell do you want, onna? I'm eating," to make his point clear he shoveled another pancake and some more bacon into his mouth, his eyes glittering coldly. With a distinctive grunt, he dismissed her very presence, really what the hell did he care about 'her' problems?

"You look like shit," he added in cruelly between mouthfuls of breakfast, hoping she'd get angry enough to just storm off. There was a fair amount of amusement in his dark eyes as he stated that plainly, his trademark smirk coming to his lips as it was meet with another howl of crying and pitiful sobbing.

"You..", her anger was rising like the bile at the back of her throat and spilled forth from her lips in a violent rush over the Saiyi-jin, "you ungrateful son of a bitch. Your going to care and your going to listen to me." She had risen from her chair, slamming her fist down on the table enough to disturb the pitcher of milk. As it rolled off the table and smashed onto the floor a fresh wave of tears came to her eyes. It weakened her knees and set her small form to trembling as she collapsed in the chair once more, her eyes drawn wide trying to minimize the amount of moisture cascade from them.

He merely smirked around a mouthful of bacon and eggs. The overall affect was ruined with the puffiness of his cheek from the eager consumption of breakfast, though his indignation and cockiness was well read. Despite the very chipmunk-ish appearance of Vegeta with one cheek stuffed almost comically full of food, she seemed unfazed and more determined still to be completely miserable and further more drag him down into her misery. Through a sudden episode of hiccups, Bulma managed to speak, "We broke up."

"About damn time," he grumbled darkly, bits of food flying in every direction, he hadn't even been polite enough to chew and swallow before blurting out. Purposefully he raised his black eyes to watch the woman's face, if she wanted to provoke him needlessly he could play the same game. "That baka wasn't even worth the dirt on the underside of my boots," he growled, actually putting down his eating utensils, though most the food had already been savagely devoured. Sitting back, he waited, waited for that flood of anger to overcome her. An angry onna was something he could deal with not this blubbering mess before him.

But her anger didn't come, at least not at first. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt emblazoned with the initials C.C., but it only managed to smear the ruined makeup worse than before. Her voice was small, rough with all her crying, "Your right," was all she could manage. She suddenly looked as if she were in great pain, crest fallen and lapsed into a deep silence. With blank empty eyes she stared ahead of herself, straight at the Prince but she wasn't seeing him not at that moment.

She'd thrown him for a loop, he'd expected anything but this. "Your pathetic," he uttered between thin lips, a look of great disgust crossing his stoic features. He rose from his chair with an arrogant mien, turning his back on her in revulsion. He wasn't going to hold her and utter words of meaningless encouragement, he didn't have to put up with any of this. He was the Prince of all Saiyi-jins, he was above such petty drama. Head held high, he crossed his arms over his muscular chest and made to leave the room.

"So help me, if you leave, I'll smash that damn machine you train with so hard and never fix it again," her voice was quiet, held on the edge of control, low and dangerous. Her aqua eyes narrowed and the haggardness of her appearance made her threats all the more real. The Prince actually paused, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck rising in alarm. She meant every word, and he understood the venom in her statement well. Maybe there was hope for her yet, his lips twisted into the bitterest of smirks as he turned around, his body breath power.. breathed the promise of violence barely contained beneath his hardened exterior. He meet her cold glare with equal displeasure, staring her down even as he resumed his seat.

She broke eye contact first, her lips parted as she was about to speak her apologies but she thought better of it, she had his attention now. "I.." she hesitated, a blush coming into her cheeks with a sudden embarrassment, "I just needed to get this off my chest and your the only one around."

"Get it over with, onna," he barked leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his muscular chest once more. His eyes remained harsh, the darkness holding no warmth of emotion, his expression clearly stating his annoyance at even having to be in the same room with the woman. Why didn't he just leave? Why did he care one way or the other if the bitch smashed the Gravity Chamber to a thousand pieces. Because he needed it, pure and simple. He needed it to become legendary and finally at last beat that inbreed fool, Kakarot.

Somewhere in all his musing, 'she' had been speaking. A fresh wave of tears had come to her eyes, setting her frame to trembling once more with the sobs wracking her body. He thought he'd heard some reference to porn, getyouroinkon .com, threeeyefetish .com but he hadn't been paying attention. He snorted distastefully, nausea rising in the pit of his stomach. Her ramblings were incoherent, a jumbling of words and images that left a bad taste in his mouth. The vein in his head was beginning to pulse and a nasty twitch was developing at the corner of an eye as she continued.

"Oh, Kami..." she wailed, "he..he... he made me dress up like a pig once." Her eyes were wild as if she were remembering the event, hands held in fists, the photo long since having been abandoned. "I thought it was roleplay... he was kinky in bed you know." Her body shook uncontrollable for a long moment as if she'd been physically hit, her voice coming out strained, "But then... h..h..he... he called out Oolong's name."

"ONNA, I do not want to hear this," Vegeta yelled back at her, suppressing the urge to slap some sense into the blabbering woman. But not even that was going to help, she was on a roll and it was spilling out her mouth with such speed and consistency she might have been rambling long after she was unconscious. He tried to block out the grating noise that was her voice, but no matter what he did he couldn't stop listening, couldn't stop hearing her confession.

"Then... then I saw those sites," she looked on the edge of panicking, eyes too wide, the pupils too big as her tears flowed even as she was unaware of them. "he'd sneak off to see those damnable pages before making love to me...".

Her voice had dropped to a dim whisper as she related the horrors her eyes had beheld, pictures of Piccolo dressed only in a variety of fruit and flora arrangements, always... always holding a rather large cucumber with that come hither look in his eyes. Disturbing, mind numbing images of Oolong spread out like a playboy bunny across heaps of food, Master Roshi in the background genuflecting before him in worship. Even poor Chiaotzu hadn't escaped the levels of perversion of the bandit, appearing in catholic school girl outfits with really short skirts and licking large lollipops provocatively.

He plugged his ears just in time to miss the rather obscene reference posted on something called Imabadkitty .com. She seemed unable to stop herself, having diarrhea of the mouth. All he'd never wanted to know about her sex life with that baka Yamcha was pouring out of her and he suddenly wished Frieza had killed him along with the rest of his race. Any torture at the hands of that merciless bastard would have been preferable to THIS. He could feel his face going green, the bile rising in the back of his throat as his breakfast threatened to come back up on him.

"And," she choked out, "what's worse..". Pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket, she blew her nose rather noisily, at last gaining a bit of her self control. With a sniffle, her voice just a touch harsher from all the balling she spoke the rest of her comment stuttering just a bit with the emotional baggage, "he.. he... even had a doctored pic of you in a... in a.." Her lower lip trembled, half in emotional display and partly to keep from laughing,

He could only cock a brow at the insanity he was hearing, his anger rising along with his ki. That crackling energy bubbling just beneath the surface, just waiting to be released. The vein in his forehead began to pulse worse and his muscles twitched with the need for use, with the restraintment of his anger and his rage. He tightened his hands into fists, the knuckles molting beneath the white gloves. His body trembling with the need to do something violent. "Spit it out you, bitch," he barked on the edge of what control he had left. The onna was purposefully trying to grate on his nerves, he just couldn't take anymore. His hands upon her throat, strangling the life out of her, yes that was appealing to him. The image was strong but then he had to hear what she said next first at least.

She actually flinched, feeling his power crawl across her skin, but she wasn't going to stop now. She let it all out in one last horrible moan, throwing her head down into her arms curled on the table and let her sobs overcome her, " .. you were dressed in a cute little French maid outfit.".

If she would have looked up at that moment, she would have seen the outrage fill up those dark eyes, bleeding them down to something definitely evil and murderous. He was beyond control, beyond all human reasoning as the chair he was sitting in hit the floor with a loud and audible thud. "HE WHAT..." his voice bellowed, shaking the kitchen with it's sheer intensity. He issued a low guttural growl, his hair standing on end as that rush of power boiled over him and consumed him filling his aura with that golden glow painting his hair in shades of flaxen and giving his once dark eyes an icy blue coldness unmatched by any other. He was going to rip that baka limb from limb and so help him Kami, not even Kakarot would be able to stop him.

And just like that, she was thrown backwards out of her chair. She skidded across the floor helpless caught in the back draft of his sudden departure. Debris and rubble rained down on her, fragments of wall and piping from where the meaningless obstacle had once been. With a groan she picked herself up off the ground, walking carefully across the cracking floor and shattered tile to gaze fixedly out the opening.

"You... BAKA," she screamed at the winds and the clouds, for he was long since gone. Not even a blur or a dot in the sky marked where he might have been but that was alright. She knew where he was headed. She let out a loud laugh, the tears quickly drying on her cheeks. She knew now Yamcha would pay for the wrong he had done to her, and dearly at that. So much for his first loves... his precious computer and his huge collection of porn. Vegeta would see to it that it was all destroyed and that waste of human flesh beaten to a bloody pulp. Wiping the smears of eye-liner from her eyes she turned, humming a pleasant little tune to herself.

"Oh, life is sweet when you have a Saiyi-jin to do your bidding," she mused with a wicked and satisfied smile.


End file.
